A Thousand Dying Sunsets
by moonlightBuffy
Summary: AU Morgana/Arthur. A fan fic in four parts, set to songs. My own retelling of the Arthurian legend, the lazy way.
1. A Thousand Dying Sunsets

**Morgana/Arthur AU fan mix fan fic: **_**A Thousand Dying Sunsets.**_

note: I always wanted to write my own Athurian legend. This is pretty much my lazy way of doing it.

01. **Birdy - People Help the People.** _people help the people, and if you're homesick, give me your hand and I'll hold it / people help the people / and nothing will drag you down._

The monotony of royal life was something that greatly vexed the youngest child of the Pendragon clan. Being merely a child of eight, with wild unkempt blonde locks, Arthur demanded adventure. In his books that learned to read from, he had often read of pirates and vagabond kings whom lived day-to-day and took whatever they wanted. As a prince, Arthur could hardly imagine the barren mores and endless oceans that were spoken of. As the future hope of a bloodline, his safety was the priority and that meant that he never got to see anything exciting. He was locked up in the castle, kept far away from any potential ill and was taught how to be brave and princely. Arthur hated it. He much rather play but there were not really any to play with.

Until one day when the guards came to the castle with a child, orphaned and alone. With hair as dark as night and eyes blue as the ocean, she had the spirit of a wildling. He had often heard about the savages across the boarder and this girl was everything he had imagined her to be. The guards said that she was a lower nobleman's daughter, who was put in a nunnery until there was a fire and she was the only who survived.

With such an exciting tale, Arthur immediately seized at the opportunity to befriend this ghoul from the north. However, the girl was angered over her new accommodations, as she was wild as a bore and required the fresh ocean air. The castle was her cage and as far as she understood, Arthur was part of the regime that kept her captive. The girl did not like the look of the prince and spit in his hand.

"I don't speak to cowards," she said simply.

From that day on, Arthur made a point to show her that he was actually a pirate in disguise and he was just as much a captive as her.

02. **Rosi Golan feat. William Fitzsimmons - Hazy**. _what if I fall and hurt myself? would you know how to fix me / what if I went and lost myself? would you know where to find me_

"Sixty-eight, sixty-nine… seventy! Ready or not, here I come."

The seasons had changed suddenly and the brave little boy had grown up to be a resourceful young man. With the key senses of a hunter, he took a moment to gaze over the limited terrain of the glade that was his and Morgana's favourite place. As it was the only place they were allowed, they knew every stick and stone, so their games usually finished quickly. As his only companion from the age of eight, the fifteen year old prince could easily sense her presence and predict her every mood.

Predatory desires welled within him as he tried to imagine himself in her shoes. Morgana liked to push the boundaries, show off her own skill and intelligence and hide away in the most difficult corners of their glade. Trying to figure out Morgana's mind was like trying to struggle against quicksand. Finally, he heard the break of a branch and excitedly, he ran against his target and without looking, dove into a bush, pushing Morgana to the ground.

"Ow!" Morgana exclaimed, laughing warmly.

Momentarily out of breath, Arthur pushed his body weight against Morgana's, smiling vaguely as his eyes locked with hers. There had always been something of a witch inside Morgana. Seemingly without the least of effort, she seemed to always get her way. When he was younger, he had been envious of how easy everything seemed to come to Morgana, as he would struggle to keep up.

He knew that some said she had actual witch blood in her. Others claimed that she was Uther's bastard child. The most ridiculous rumour he had heard about his childhood playmate was that even at a young age, Morgana had made it her business to devour the souls of men. Popular gossip and superstition liked to attribute anything that went wrong to the lady Morgana. Luckily, Arthur never listened to their lies. He knew better.

"Got you," he smiled.

"Seems like you do," Morgana agreed, her eyes glittering darkly, secretly pleased. "When I met you, you could barely hold your own against a castle pigeon. Now you've turned into quite the lion."

If he was a lion, Arthur wondered what on earth she was. But then again, that was the eternal question, wasn't it?

03. **The Killers - Somebody Told Me** _Well somebody told me / you had a boyfriend_

_Who looked like a girlfriend / that I had in February of last year / it's not confidential i've got potential_

Morgana was the most stubborn and annoying being on the planet. That was what she was. When they had been young, they had made a game out of arriving to banquets dirty and full of mischief. Those were the rules. This year, there had been no expectation of change and Arthur had arrived thinking that it would be another year of laughs and sarcastic jokes. Not… this spectacle.

His eyes were annoyingly transfixed at his childhood ally, whose mere appearance had only moments before caused somewhat of a sensation in the otherwise absolutely dull affair. Even though it caused his physical pain to admit it, Morgana was a revelation. Dressed in the finest silk imported from France while the wine-red shade accentuated her features to make her seem almost unearthly. Before his very eyes, Morgana had transformed from a tomboy who could throw the meanest punches punches to this… joke.

He didn't know that he was fuming until his father told him that he better cheer up. For the first time, Arthur felt completely deserted and barren, somehow. Just a few feet away, Morgana looked like the picture of perfection and temptation with effortless grace. What she was wearing could not even be described as a dress. It was a gown. Made for Aphrodite herself. There was no doubt that Morgana was a revelation and now she was spending most of the dinner flirting with foreign ambassadors, rather than laughing at them at the table with him. For some reason that was a very depressing revelation.

04. **Sweet Talk Radio - Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?** _Can I believe the magic of your sighs? Will you still love me tomorrow? / Tonight with words unspoken / You say that I'm the only one / But will my heart be broken / When the night meets the morning sun?_

"Oh, Arthur, you are an absolute nightmare!" Morgana's eyes were sparkling blue like thunder. She could not believe what she was hearing. To be fair, Arthur had always been a bit of a twat but he had never been this unreasonable.

Within a couple of months, her closest friend had implicitly decided that she was no longer worthy of his time. Arthur, who had never in his life given hunting that much of a thought, was suddenly spending all of his time hunting with his knights and refused her to accompany him. She was missing him terribly, but she was going to admit that over her dead body. Right now, she didn't miss him at all, right now she wanted to strangle him. The fact that would probably send her to the stake was merely a technicality.

"You are a woman," Arthur emphasised with increasing pressure in his voice, "You're not supposed to go hunting." The level of hypocrisy Arthur was displaying was astounding. With his conversion to his new religion - hunting - they seem to have lobotomised his brain along with it.

"Says who?" She knew very well it was an unspoken rule in Camelot but the man she knew would never have given two figs to unspoken rules. When they were children, they had been thick as thieves.

"You'll…" Arthur's face awoke with emotions as he tried to mask his hesitation, "… provide an distraction!"

"That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my entire life, Arthur Pendragon! If you don't want me to come with, fine, just tell me. Just stop being such a bloody child about it and tell me what it is I have done?"

"What?" For the first time during their seemingly endless fight, Arthur's expression broke into genuine astonishment. His face softened and for a moment, Morgana saw her childhood friend beneath the layer of hurt pride.

"I must have done something because for the last couple of weeks, you have treated me as though I have the plague." She didn't have the energy to be angry about it any more. She had been plenty angry and upset about this already, so now all that remained was for the brutal truth to face the light of day.

"That's… absolutely… absurd!" Arthur's reaction puzzled her increasingly. The future king of Camelot grinned slightly and had his gaze fixed at her ear. Arthur was uncomfortable. Whenever he was scolded by Uther, he would look past him as though it would make the criticism wash over him. Now he was doing the same to her. As she moved closer, he bolted as though she was made of fire. Any attempt at eye contact was rejected.

Morgana's mind was spinning. What was going on? She had never seen Arthur like this. Not to her. Reviewing the last couple of weeks, she tried to imagine what could have possibly evoked his discomfort. With the stress of his upcoming elevation with titles and land, it was given that he would be stressing out about things. She had assumed that the majority of his recent questionable characteristics derived from that pressure but seeing that his avoidance of her was more deeply rooted than initially anticipated, Morgana contemplated.

Had he heard the fruitless gossip that she was Uther's bastard? No, he had known that for years and once, he had actually beat up a boy who had called her names in the square. So it definitely wasn't that. Arthur was many things but he was loyal before anything else. Had he been angry at her that time she beat him at cards? No, his pettiness was never long lasting.

"Arthur, please," she said finally, "Tell me. You're my only friend. I cannot stand it when you're hating me so."

His complexion turned surprised and his gaze became slightly hazed. He was less guarded than he had been for months, which Morgana supposed was a development. "I could never hate you," he replied softly with such honestly that Morgana knew she could believe it.

As she was finally able to put words onto the emotions that had been welling up inside her for such a long time, she was overwhelmed. Emotions that she thought she had reconciled long ago returned and words were lost as she tried to find the right ones.

"What is it then?" She moved closer, allowing her hand to gently stroke his cheek. She looked into his eyes, his good, honest eyes that she always knew she could rely upon. He flinched as her pale skin touched his, as she drew small circles on his cheek with her thumb. It was a familiar gesture. One that she had done many times. But as they were standing there, Morgana could not help as though they were standing at the edge of an abyss, able to see their eventual doom unfold in front of them.

Any friendship that they had would only be temporary, she had realised that now. Was it not the weight of his obligations, station or time, she would later leave him in some capacity. They were living on borrowed time and it was only now that they realised the inevitability of their demise.

As a tear fell down her cheek, Arthur's defences finally wore down. His stern exterior was now completely dissolved and the face that was standing in front of her was very much like the one he'd had when they were children. Open and honest, Arthur divorced himself from his misgivings and gave her his most precious commodity - his trust. "I'm so sorry, Morgana," he repeated softly, whispering and mumbling it over and over like a secret only shared between the two of them. For some reason they were now both crying but somehow it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"I don't want to lose you," Morgana confessed, smiling a little over how ridiculous they both were. But somehow it was just perfect, even though it was very ridiculous.

"You'd always have me."

The weight of his response made Morgana pause. She looked into his eyes again, staring into them as though for the first time, and all of the questions she had once had now represented themselves as evident answers. From that second, she realised that she was full of him. Her heart, her soul… he had all taken them into his possession a long time ago. Suddenly it was as though his name was embodied on her entire anatomy and despite that this was a recent revelation, it remained as if it was the most evident thing in the world. As though it was the only thing in their crazy would that would make sense.

Their eyes met and a wolfish hunger took over them both. When their lips finally met and crashed into each other, the weight of the love they shared seemed to suffocate them both. But oh, what a glorious way to die.

05. **Greg Laswell - Lie To Me**. _Go ahead and lie to me / I'll believe in anything you say tonight/ Go ahead and lie to me / Write 'I love you' while I sleep / And hide it for another day to find_

A dark, empty, bottom-less pit. Numb and deserted. Emotions were simultaneously swirling in him while also numbing him to his core. Morgana… his… they were… related. Even the contemplation of truth made him sick to his core. It wasn't so much for the fact itself but the implications of it. He should be finding her revolting but he fact that he didn't was what made him feel sick. The love he felt her remained unchanged, even though rhyme and reason told him differently. She had marked his soul. Every that ever mattered, anything that he had ever done… She had always been his first. His first friend, his first love… His first loss.

The prospect that now he would never see Morgana again, much less speak to her again, awoke in him such agony that he could not comprehend how he was still alive. While she escaped in horror and mortification, he was left behind, unable to move on with the shell that used to be his heart. He felt broken and ill used.

"Arthur…" He had not realised his door had opened and as he looked up, he saw her standing there. His judge, jury and executioner. His greatest love but also his greatest enemy. Standing in front of him, veilding the unearthly power over him that she had always possessed. His heart was overjoyed and terrified at seeing her again. This would confirm their separation and she would disappear.

He must have been crying because Morgana was soon by his side, soothing his sobs. Her arms wrapped around him like comforting blankets but also heaving chains, keeping his heart forever hostage. He wanted to hate her, be disgusted by her… But all he could do was love her.

His lips found her, kissing them as if they were searching for air. This right had been his only hours ago but now had forever been removed from him. His hands found her neck and they softly explored the familiar area, Morgana broke away from the kiss but remained in his proximity. Never, he irrationally hoped, to be removed.

"I have to go," she whispered softly.

Arthur shook his head. No, no, no… He would defy everyone, give up anything to keep her with him. They could just stay here, as companions, and live as what they were now doomed to be - brother and sister.

Looking at him for the last time, Morgana kissed his hand and left him in his misery.


	2. Dismiss Your Fears

01. **Laura Marling - Devil's Spoke.** _And then life it's self can not aspire to have someone be so admired / I threw creation to my king have the silence broken by a whispered wind._

The days passed and those days turned into months. Eventually the yearning he felt for his forbidden companion began to subside and Arthur began to fill his life with other matters. His father died and he resumed the kingly responsibilities for which he had always been destined. At his funeral, he had hoped to see Morgana but she did not come. Not that he could blame her, this was the man who had unintentionally ruined both of their lives.

Occasionally, he gained some reports concerning her well-being but the reports became fewer and further between. Perhaps that was for the best because every report was like an exercise in self-torture. Publicly, he would confess the joy of hearing news of his sister Morgana, as the secret of her paternity was a secret no more, while in private he would mourn the loss and secretly hate her for every accomplishment. He was stuck, cursed to live every day in the prison of his past while she was out in the world, doing good. In the back of his mind, Arthur always wondered what it would do to his sanity when the news would finally come, announcing that Morgana was to be married. But they never did.

Every thing went on and Arthur's successes as king were widely celebrated throughout Camelot. He had even accomplished with some degree of success what his father could not - peace. The savages across the border, Arthur had learned where not savages at all but a peaceful pagan people, with great respect for land and nature. They possessed a knowledge quite different from the one at court and Arthur found it most intriguing. His chief advisor, Merlin, was of that descent and made sure that he led an enlightened kingdom, taking both sides into consideration. It was so strange to think that after years of conflict, the only thing he would have needed to do in order to secure peace was to acknowledge their land, Avalon, and allow them their freedom. As freedom was not really his to give but something already evident to every being, Arthur was happy to concede. Just as he loathed hunting, he hated war even more.

Which was why, years after having seen Morgana's face, Arthur finally married. Her name was Guinevere and he was quite certain they could be happy together. He needed to move on with his life and stop loving a shadow. She was loving and kind, and as far as political alliances went, that was all he could ask for.

Little did Arthur know that one day, his life would change forever. Merlin returned from his travels to Avalon and brought with him a young apprentice. Following in Merlin's footsteps was a small boy, who seemed to be no more than nine years old, whose appearance was very much wild and dark. Looking at him, Arthur could only recall with infinite pain the first day when Morgana had arrived at court, and she had looked very much the same. This was definitely a boy of Avalonian descent. The boy barely made eye contact and shifted around court uncomfortably, not happy with all the attention. Clinging to Merlin's robes, the boy seemed to be uncomfortable but as he turned to look at the king, there was definitely a confidence in his demeanour.

When the boy looked up at him, Arthur could not shake a ghostly, terrifying feeling. The boy who was staring at him looked like the spitting image of Morgana. The resemblance would have been uncanny, had it not been for a pair of green eyes, where it should have been blue.

"Milord," Merlin announced, "This is Mordred."

The longer Arthur stared at him, the more convinced he was that the boy must be a witch's concoction, sent to drive him out of his mind. He knew one thing, however, for certain, that this was the beginning of his doom.

02. **Jason Walker - Down**. _i'm not ready to let go 'cause then I'd never know / what i could be missing but i'm missing way too much_

As the doors closed behind them, Arthur found himself unable to keep the questions that had been plaguing his mind to himself. Trying his best but failing desperately to control his temper, Arthur felt jealousy and angry rise within him, defying any logic.

"Whose is that child?" Arthur demanded, staring accusingly at Merlin. Out of all the children in any land… It could not be a coincidence. At the very least, it was a sick joke.

Merlin momentarily paused, thinking over his options and the silence screamed in Arthur's ears as his own fears tried to deafen it. Arthur did not know why but even though he had faced wars, dragons and all kinds of horrors, the child frightened him more than any monster.

Finally, his most trusted advisor's face turned grave and, hesitantly admitted: "The lady Morgana's."

The revelation hit him like a shot in the chest. Even though he already knew - no child could look so much like another person and not be related in some intimate way - the knowledge that it was actually was hers was painful. Sitting down on the nearest chair, Arthur struggled against the irrational need to cry. Instead, he buried his face in his hands and tried to sort out his troubled mind. The child had not been here half an hour and it already had him doubting his sanity.

"Arthur, I know-" Merlin began.

"You know nothing." Arthur was furious. Morgana had a child. And she had not even told him.

"Mordred was born not long after she arrived at the convent. As soon as the nuns discovered that she was pregnant, they threw her out. She's been living in Avalon ever since."

"Why bring him here?"

This time, Merlin also hesitated. "She thought it was time for Mordred to grow up. He's almost twelve and she thought-"

"Twelve?" Arthur's face momentarily lost all composure and his expression was a mixture of heartbreak and fear. "Who's his father?" He had not seen Morgana in thirteen years which meant that either she had been deceiving him or…

For the first time, during their conversation, Merlin did not look happy. "You."

03. **Mumford & Sons - After The Storm**. _and there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears / and love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears / get over your hill and see what you find there / with grace in your heart_

Looking at the small child playing with his toy, Arthur couldn't understand how that tiny little person was partly his and he had never known. Surely, he should have… Even though this was not a gift he had been expecting or necessarily wanted because of the problems it would create, he was angry that Morgana had been so stubborn as to not let him make up his own mind.

Carefully approaching the child - Mordred - Arthur felt surprisingly small. He wanted to get to know his son, and most importantly, he wanted Mordred to like him. Merlin had not been able to answer whether or not Mordred knew of his strange paternity and had advised Arthur against any seemingly… favourable treatment of the boy, as to not awake suspicion. There would be trouble enough if someone found out that he was Morgana's child. Even though it had been years since she had been in the kingdom, rumours of her evil had lingered like the nastiest weed.

"Hello Mordred," Arthur said carefully, sitting down next to the boy, as he continued to play, with little attention left to the king. "I'm Arthur."

"I know," Mordred said, "You're the king."

Arthur nodded. "Yes. I used to be good friends with your mother."

Mordred stopped playing at once and for the first time, looked at Arthur with genuine interest. "Really?" His eyes lit up with curiosity and Arthur could not suppress a smile. It did not surprise him that Morgana was a good mother.

Arthur nodded. "It was a long time ago now, but she used to be my best friend when we were little."

Mordred wiped his nose, his eyes not leaving Arthur's as he was transfixed by his words. "Why did you stop?"

"I didn't stop. It's just I haven't spoken to your mother in a very long time." Somehow speaking of Morgana was not as painful as he had imagined it to be. Rather, speaking with Mordred, it was like revisiting a pleasant memory. Merlin had told him to not show the boy any favouritism but Arthur could not help love the child. Not because he was somehow considered his biological property but for some unknown reason, the child touched his heart and made the pain of the past somehow easier to bear.

The child suddenly started jumping excitedly, poking the king as though he was afraid he would disappear. "Oh! Oh!" Mordred exclaimed, "Mother told me that she sent me away so I could know my father. You used to be friends, do you know who it is? I thought it was Merlin but he does not seem very happy to have me here. Back home, he would always bring me nice presents. Now he just scolds me."

Arthur smiled, trying his best to not let Morgana's carefully kept secret slip. There were obviously reasons why she had decided not to tell Mordred, so Arthur better honour it. He could do as much. "I don't know. But tell you what, I can tell Merlin to ease up on you a little. After all, you're only a child once."

Mordred seemed to be happy with that response and continued to play.

04. **Florence + The Machine - Never Let Me Go**. _in the arms of the ocean, so sweet and so cold, and all this devotion i never knew at all / and the crashes are heaven, for a sinner released and the arms of the ocean / deliver me_.

Months after Mordred's arrival, what was not allowed to happen happened. The frightfully clever child, whom Arthur loved in secret as his own, fell ill. There was an outbreak of some unknown ill in the castle and within a few hours, it had put its cursed hand over Mordred. At first, Merlin thought that he might recover quickly but as the days passed, a quick recovery looked more and more unlikely. The true state of his condition, Arthur had not been privy to, as Merlin refused to tell him. "You must not seem overly concerned over the well-being of this child," Merlin had told him, "Worry instead about the other children who will most certainly die if you do nothing. They do not have the chances Mordred's got. Not everyone has a palace physician." Understanding the sensible nature of that advice, Arthur did his best to not concern himself too much with Mordred's health, however difficult it was.

On the seventh day of illness, Arthur was looking out through the window of his bedroom as he saw the approaching of a lone stallion, carrying a cloaked figure in terrible haste. While this was slightly peculiar, it was not uncommon. It was clearly a messenger from Avalon, coming to deliver news. He hoped that the neighbouring kingdom were fortunate enough to not be touched by this horrible ailment.

Another hour passed and soon, a royal guard came knocking on his door. "Milord. It's the lady Morgana. She's come to see the boy Mordred."

Rushing out of his chair, Arthur did not want to waste a single minute. His mind was still doubting whether or not he had heard the man correctly, but on the off chance he might be right, Arthur did not want to dwell. As he walked the familiar route to Mordred's sick chambers, he could hear familiar voices far away.

"I'm sorry milady, but you cannot-"

"I swear, you get out of my way or I will make you regret the day you were born!" Morgana's voice was remarkably unchanged by the test of time. Encouraged by the sound of her voice, Arthur picked up the pace as he rushed through the royal hallways. As his feet were carrying him, his mind was spinning at such a speed that Arthur was certain it would soon spin out of his head. After what felt like an eternity, Arthur arrived at Mordred's door and came face to face with the visage that had haunted his dreams for the last thirteen years.

As she turned around, and the two faced each other once more, Arthur forgot that he was angry with her for not telling him about Mordred and that he had told himself he should hate her. Instead it was as though no time had passed and in front of him stood the girl he had always loved. Older, more beautiful and everything he had ever imagined her to be.

Not sure where he got the strength, Arthur turned to the guard and commanded to let her in. For a brief moment, as his attention shifted elsewhere, he was afraid she would disappear as a ghost and he would remain there alone once more. Morgana instead rushed into her son - their son - and embraced him with all the love a mother could bear. Arthur could not help lingering in the shadow like a lost soul.

"My child," she whispered his ear lovingly, and ignored any warning from the guard that she was not supposed to touch the contaminated.

Mordred stirred and opened his eyes, smiling brightly as they found his mother. "Mother."

Tears fell down Morgana's cheeks as she held her son tightly. Arthur could not tear his eyes away from the family he should have had, not even when he commanded the guard to leave. Instead, he stood there, feeling like an intruder as a mother nurtured her sick son. Even when Mordred fell asleep, Morgana remained with him, whispering words in a language in a language he could not understand over his sleeping form. Even though Arthur probably should, he could not leave.


	3. This Day Dying

**Arthur/Morgana AU fan mix fan fic (part 3): **_**This Day Ending**_**.**

note: This little baby doesn't seem to want to stop.

01. **The Civil Wars - Poison and Wine**. _you only know what i want you to / i know everything you don't want me to / your mouth is poison / your mouth is wine / you think your dreams are the same as mine / i don't love you but i always will_

How do you start a conversation you don't want to have? Arthur did not know. He kept standing there, circling around Mordred's sick bed like a vulture, waiting with the same devotion as a famished animal to the promise of food. Every once in a while, his malnourished soul caught Morgana's glance but the weight of her gaze pierced him so that he had to turn away once more. He had imagined this day many times over the years. Especially recently. In his mind, he would rush to her and tell her all the things he had wanted for all these years. How he hated and loved her equally. How she never should have left. How he was over her. How he wasn't at all. Arthur had wanted so much to ask her about Mordred, to demand to know why he was never told. But as it was with many things, there were not enough words and no suitable time.

Besides, what was he going to ask? In truth, he knew all the reasons why he had remained in the dark. Primarily, it was because had he known the truth, he would have probably not been able to handle it. He had been young and foolish. The news of his father's misdeeds had been enough to almost break him. Adding a child into it… Arthur was not certain he could even deal with it now. The fact that he was king of Camelot merely complicated an already complicated tale. Morgana had always known him better than anyone and even though he hated her choice, he understood it. There were probably other reasons to Morgana's secrecy, Arthur imagined. After the news of their common ancestry, it was probably hard for her as well, to deal with the fact that she had been involved with her own brother.

In spite of all the years, Arthur could still not see her as his sister. However, Morgana was more determined out of the two of them and for her it was surely not as much of a struggle. How much easier Camelot would have fared had she been king.

Resigning to his fate, Arthur decided to leave mother and son alone. However great his need might be, the conversation could wait a while longer. For now, the mere presence of the magical sorceress was enough for him to deal with. It did not take him five minutes before he started hearing rumours about Uther's bastard witch returning to Camelot after so many years. There were rumours about Mordred too. Some had spotted the common features, while others were convinced he was a wicked clone, sent to spy on the kingdom on account of the Avalonians.

Later that evening as Arthur was about to retire, the door opened behind him. Wiping his face with a towel, the prince turned around and the face he met needed no introduction. Instead, he merely sat down on one of the sofas and invited her to do the same. At least his mind had reconciled enough with her presence to allow him to perform that action without spontaneously combusting. Around her, every sense was heightened. It was as though everything dull had suddenly gained new life. Even emotions such as sorrow or happiness doubled in value in her presence.

Morgana sat down, somewhat awkwardly opposite him. At first she did not meet his eye, but rather her eyes scanned the chambers he currently occupied. Finally, her eyes returned to where they had originally intended and Arthur found it hard to meet her gaze, so he forced himself.

"Arthur…" Morgana began, almost whispering. "I don't- Merlin told me. You know about Mordred."

Somehow, Arthur nodded even though his insides were screaming. It was bizarre, watching himself so composed when actually he was three seconds away from breaking. Was it obvious? If she did, she made no notice of it. But regardless of how together he seemed, Arthur could not bring himself to reply. For a moment, the soft light of the fire caught something glittering in Morgana's clear eyes. It took him a moment to realise what it was. He had never seen her cry.

"He is your son," she said firmly as her voice was shaking, her eyes glowing of sad determination. "I realised too late and… I couldn't tell you. I could not write something like that in a letter and I could not come back. Not back here."

"You are here now." Arthur wished he did not sound so bitter.

Morgana nodded. "I heard you married."

For Morgana, this was probably her idea of an easy conversation but the mention of Guinevere merely complicated things further for Arthur. His life had always been divided in separate entities - Morgana and after. The coming together of the two to the present was weirder than he could have predicted. But for the sake of conversation and the fact that he wasn't brave enough to speak about the things he wanted, he played along. For once, Arthur intended to keep the desperate promise he had secretly given her years ago. She could stay. She did not need to go.

After all, she was his sister. Regardless of how much it hurt.

02. **Trading Yesterday - Shattered**. _losing what was found, a world so hollow / suspended in a compromise / the silence of this sound is soon to follow / somehow sundown_

Mordred got better and soon it was as though he had never been ill. The only sign that anything had happened had been Morgana's continued presence at the castle. For weeks, Arthur dreading asking if her presence would be prolonged and afraid of the answer, he kept his distance. When she was around he felt reduced to merely a figure, remaining in shadows around her. So much time had passed that he felt there was a difficulty speaking with her these days. Guinevere had noticed his discomfort and asked questions that Arthur could not answer. As much as he took comfort in Guinevere's presence, he could not tell her what was buried so deep in his heart. It wasn't the noble thing to do but then again, he had never been much of a noble man.

For a month, Morgana remained at the castle and during that period, it became obvious that Mordred was her son. The castle was abuzz with whom the father could be. The rumours were running rapid and for a moment, Arthur was concerned they might reach at the truth. The gossiping was quietened by the sudden public acknowledgement of paternity from one of his own knights. Gwaine, seemingly out of the blue, announced himself as the father and began to resume responsibilities for the child. After that, there were no more questions. He had after all been at the castle for years. It was probable that he was Mordred's father.

Even though it was ridiculous to him who knew the truth, Arthur could not help feeling a strange jealousy towards the man. As the charade commenced, he would watch Gwaine speak closely to his sister and they would act every bit as comfortable with each other as two who shared offspring. Years ago, Arthur remembered that Gwaine had been infatuated with Morgana. Arthur had not realised that at the time but after Morgana had left, he had once told him in confidence. Though that confession had been spoken by many of the male population at Camelot after her disappearance. It meant nothing.

It wasn't until Gwaine asked to be relieved of his duties at the round table that Arthur realised he had reason to fear.

"What?"

"Sir, I realise that it comes quite as a surprise-"

"A surprise would be taking it lightly, Gwaine." He tried not to reproach him for wanting to leave, but he could not get the picture of him conversing with Morgana and the looks he would send her when she was unaware of his gaze. It had been apparent for quite some time now that charade or not, Gwaine was in love with his sister. Feeling as though that was merely his task, Arthur could not help feeling an ill-suited territorial instinct over a property that had never been his, nor would ever belong to anyone. She was her own person.

"The thing is, sire… I'm sure you've noticed…"

The words did not come as a surprise, it had been expected after all, but they still hurt. Arthur struggled to keep his countenance under control.

"The lady Morgana, I take it?" His mouth pressed out the words, unwilling to utter them out loud.

Gwaine nodded. "I want to take time away from court and get to know my, ehm, son."

Arthur did not know whether or laugh or cry. "But he's not even your son!" The words escaped him before he had a chance to stop them. Taken over by that demonic jealous that was otherwise so out of character for him, he could not help but wanting to keep Gwaine at court and Morgana as far away as possible. Astounded at his words, Gwaine stared at his king in confused amazement.

"… How do you..?" As the truth dawned on him, his complexion altered drastically to horrified shock. His face grew pale and in his features bore a monster of disgust to the likes of which Arthur had never seen. As Arthur grew to realise what Gwaine had just understood, terror seized him in its ruthless grasp. As jealous as he was, he would never intentionally sabotage any happiness for Morgana. If anyone deserved it out of the two of them, it was her. He had been the one willing to throw it all away.

"Your sister!" Gwaine did not know where to think or where to go. Instead he just stood there, absorbing the information. "Your own sister?"

As paradoxical as it was, Arthur was relieved that someone knew the truth after all these years. However, he could see the misunderstanding grow in Gwaine's features and he could see what had been the most precious in his life be twisted into something sordid, something unnatural. The only thing that had been disgusting with the whole affair had been his conduct as of late. Especially right now.

"It wasn't like that. We didn't know we were related. Until… it was too late."

However hard Gwaine tried, he did not seem to understand. For a moment, he stood there quietly, thinking of the meaning of this most recent relevation. "I won't say a word," he promised, "but that is not… it is solely because I care about Morgana. As far as you go… You are not the king I thought you were."

After the exchange of bitter words, Gwaine left the hall. Probably never to return. A few days later, the group of three left Camelot. This time, Arthur was certain he would not see either Morgana or Mordred again. Perhaps it was for the best, even if it didn't feel like it.

03. **The Cranberries - Zombie**. _another head hangs lowly, child is slowly taken. / and the violence caused such silence, who are we mistaken?_

Camelot was at the brink of war. Most of the land was burning and its citizens had taken shelter within the seemingly secure walls of the castle. What they did not know, however, was that it was crumbling in from the inside. Guinvere's affair with Lancelot had been uncovered and despite that it had more or less progressed with his blessing, Arthur was expected to do something. Some screamed for her blood, others said that he should divorce. He wanted neither. Guinevere had been his companion and the union had been as uncomfortable for both. Merlin also kept giving reports of a band of warrior lords who were embarking on a quest to take the throne for themselves. Armed with magic and the power of their swords, very few people seemed to stand in their way.

Arthur was not the king he used to be. As he was approaching the middle of his life, he was increasingly getting tired. He could not phantom why anyone would ever be king. The crown on his head was his prison sentence and the power he held was only his to channel, not to control. He could only subdue the monstrosities that rested in people's hearts and minds for a time, never vanquish it completely.

"Milord," Merlin appeared in the doorway, always the bearer of sorrowful news. He did not need to turn around to feel the disappointment in Merlin's eyes. He had not lived up to his expectations either. "Reports are coming in that the war lords will be in the city by nightfall."

Arthur made a small smile. He would go to history as the king of failed potential. There had been such promise and now it was clear that there would never be peace. There would always be someone like a pack of hungry wolves wanting to take power. Sometimes, it was due to his own mistakes and their grievances were justified. Sometimes, however, there was nothing but the ugly head of greed revealing its nature to the misfortune of all.

"What should we do?" Arthur enquired, "Ride out and meet them? Fight until every last drop of blood is spilt? Or do we gracefully admit defeat? What is the noble thing to do?" His voiced was plagued by the demons that haunted his years. By now, he just wanted it to stop. There had been so many wars recently that he was not sure there was anybody left to defend it.

Merlin was silent with surprise "The noble thing to do," Merlin finally pressed, "Is to stop feeling sorry for yourself and protect your people."

Arthur nodded. "You're right, as always Merlin. But I have realised something lately. What is it to the people if I live? For most of them, I am nothing but an image, a fictitious saint whom is present but never a part of their lives. A new king on the throne would mean very little to them."

"It would matter very much to them would that new king be someone who have just gone through Camelot slaughtering their families… sire."

Arthur sighed. "Suppose you're right. So war is the answer then?"

"Not yet," Merlin admitted, "If you wish, we could send an envoy and see if they were willing to speak. Quite frankly, I'm not certain we have the manpower after the Saxon disaster a few months back. Many are still recovering."

The king nodded in agreement and Merlin disappeared to do his bidding. It was going to be interesting to see what these warrior princes wanted. He had never had much of a warrior spirit, even in his youth. The prospect of violence was abhorrent to him and yet it seemed to fill some men and women with an unnatural force that would drive them to unspeakable things.

Three hours later, an envoy returned with the leader of the band of violent men. As Arthur prepared to meet this man, he thought of the conflicts he had faced over the years. In terms of strategy, it was not the most dangerous but he had lately lost his will to face these things. That was infinitely more dangerous.

His life had been in some ways been charmed but equally been cursed and troubled ever since he could remember. As he surveyed himself in the mirror and took the crown upon himself, he became transformed. He was no longer a man but something different. An idea, very much like that ghostly saint that merely hovered. He was less and yet more of a man all at once. As king he had no history, no pain… All he had was difficult decisions.

As he walked down to the courtyard, he could see the man seeking to usurp him get down from his horse. He was a tall, young thing. As he walked closer, people stared at the meeting, eagerly anticipating what was to happen.

"You were brave to come here alone. I've known a lot more powerful men and they have all insisted on protection," Arthur began. At the sound of his voice, the young man stopped momentarily, as if contemplating something. When he turned around, Arthur could not help but feel as if he was in way over his head.

The man had long dark hair and a fair, pale skin, which was unusual for a man who spent most of his days riding around the country on a crusade for power. He was well-trained and had deep, Avalonian features. What stood out however, was a pair of strong, green eyes that were as familiar to him as if he was standing in front of a mirror.

"Mordred…" Arthur could not believe that this was the same child who had spent a few months at the castle… Was it really ten years ago? It must have been. To him, it did not seem that long ago.

The only thing that separated their eyes was that where his own were tired and afraid, Mordred's glowed with anger and power. He was far away from the small child who had first arrived to Camelot a decade past. Arthur wondered how he had been brought up.

Upon seeing his father, Mordred gave a cold, pleasant smile. "King Arthur! We have a lot to talk about," he gave the king an embrace as though they were old friends, which pleased the king greatly but as his arms wrapped around the king, Mordred's lips found Arthur's ear. "… father."


	4. My Heart to Fear

**Arthur/Morgana AU fan mix fan fic (part 4): **_**My Heart To Fear**_

note: last part of this little adventure ;) Though it is quite possible that I'll write something else in this format. I'm working a little on concepts for a modern AU one and a Morgana/Merlin one that I've promised to make :)

01. **The Punch Brothers - Dark Days**. _sister hide our love away from the evil that we both know, it can see us through these dark dark days / though they seem to darken as I go_

Ever since she was young, Morgana had dreamed of a world where she would not have to be afraid. When they had been young, Arthur would sometimes tell her that he envied her the bravery she seemed to carry so effortlessly. Back then, she would always laugh at him and say that it was because she wasn't a coward like him, so bravery came easily to her. But that wasn't true. The bravery she had to have was in many ways forced upon her. Morgana could not remember a time when she was given a choice of whether or not to be brave. The only choice she could remember was survival or submission. Choosing the former was not an act of bravery but one of necessity. Bravery could later be attached to the action but really, it was nothing more than a human right. Calling it brave made it somehow seem exceptional. As though submitting to the chains that wanted to bind her was somehow cowardly.

It took many Morgana many years to realise it. It was only recently that she had decided to do the seemingly cowardly thing. She had been tired of fighting. It seemed as though her life was made up of a constant row of struggles that she had to overcome. Life had never been simple. The years had hardened her heart, aged her face and endowed her both with a certain kind of wisdom and a certain kind of ignorance. Wisdom of the perils of life. Ignorance of the strength of youth.

Which was why when she received Mordred's letter, she knew she had made a mistake. The news they carried were dangerous, challenging everything that had remained in place for so long. It was when she received the letter she knew that it had been wrong to subject Mordred to Gwaine's pessimism, that it had been wrong to lie all of these years. That what she had thought had been brave years ago was actually folly.

Her son had taken over Camelot and imprisoned his father. He was now inviting her to live at court as the regent's mother and claim that position in society that had been denied her when Uther hid her away in shame. Her life at Camelot had commenced in flames and knowing the fury she evoked in the people of Camelot, Morgana knew that her life would end the same way as it had begun.

When she finally arrived at Camelot, Mordred embraced her lovingly. "Mother," he said and kissed her on the cheek. It pained her to see her son, whom she loved so much, be so consumed of the cynicism that she had fought so hard to keep from his heart. His eyes that usually sparkled with light and joy were dark and angry. "What do you think? What do you think of our new empire? Are you not proud of me?"

She touched her boy's face, stroking his cheek. What was she? Was she proud? It was hard to know. Instead of speaking, she kissed her boy's forehead, trying to mask her own doubt and instead do what she always tried; to support her child. She had known the harsh, cruel world that remained for unloved children and the last thing she wanted was for her child to end there.

"Can I see Arthur?" She finally asked.

The disappointment in her son's eyes were evident as daylight. His features darkened slightly, and with a face removed of all emotion, he nodded. One of the guards escorted her to the rooms where the former king was held captive. En par with royal custom, Arthur had because of his rank not been banished to the dungeons but Morgana suspected that was where most of his knights were kept. They were after all more likely to fight against Arthur's son than Arthur himself.

When the doors opened, her eyes came to meet her brother. It had been years since she had seen him and even longer since they had properly spoken. Uther's secret had torn them apart. The bond they had shared became tainted and she had over the years tried her best to hide it, to not think about it as though that would make it all disappear. Not that she would ever wish Mordred gone - no, that was not it - what she wanted gone was the feelings that always came back when she saw the man sitting in front of her.

Love was at the end of the day not a complicated emotion but what was complicated was the broken, undefined kind that was refused to live out its promise. Therefore, her emotions towards her brother were both tragic and desperately beautiful. They never had a chance to destroy their feelings on their own, instead that had been done for them. The most miserable animal was, after all, the one with desperate, futile hope.

Upon seeing her, Arthur's face changed. From the ruins of his glory, glowed a warmness that always caught Morgana off guard. Arthur was so much stronger than she was. He could show his emotions, as clear as day, and carry them proudly. She hid hers, denied them until they went away. That was why she could never lie to Arthur. He would never let her. Every time they met, the love would be there, reminding her of its presence. Not to be forgotten. Refusing to be denied.

They were both doomed, in so many ways.

"Morgana," Arthur was partly surprised and partly relieved. He came up to her and wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her there for a while. His arms felt like blankets, wrapping themselves around her and reminded her of the intimacy they once shared. The thought that it was now gone, when it still lived so vividly in her mind, was painful. To him, she was now his dearly loved sister. Even though that had been what she had wished for, the loss was immense.

How she had once loved him.

How fiercely she lied to herself and said she loved him no more.

"I am sorry," Morgana said at last, "I did not know any of this would happen."

Arthur finally let his arms go and Morgana was left with the ghosts of previous memories haunting her mind. She could still hate Uther for what he had done to them. How he had ruined what they had. Had she known since birth, she would have gained a loving brother. Had Uther's indiscretion never happened, she could have - in another body, in another life - had a devoted lover. Now she had neither.

"It is not your fault," Arthur insisted, the two sitting down to speak as they had not done for years. "I knew eventually, I would have to pay for my sins."

Morgana could not tell if he was speaking of Mordred or something else. Over all, she had a huge problem with the notion of sin. It served no other purpose than to guilt, and from guilt you could never grow. "Mordred is not a sin," she said firmly. _He's my son_.

Arthur nodded. "I wasn't speaking of him. Merely my own failings as a king. I could have been wiser, shown more compassion."

Politics was never about the compassion of individual men but about respect, and that respect should never be exercised as anything other than unconditionally and systematically to everyone. People could only live on the charity of the powerful for so long. Avalonians suffered much in Camelot and while things had become better, they were not good.

Then as the silence came over them, the pair sat there emerged in the quiet thoughts of themselves. There was so much they wanted to say, but so little they could speak. They remained so for a long time.

"Remember when we were young," Arthur said finally, smiling in his despair, "When I was the promised prince of Camelot? Oh, how the mighty can fall."

"And I was Uther's bastard witch who was destined to destroy the kingdom?" Morgana countered, "Well, I suppose in that respect they were right."

"No, they weren't," Arthur replied softly. His voice was filled with a faith and determination that was coloured by years that would not be forgotten. His hand found hers and for some reason, Morgana let him keep it there. Afraid to meet his eye, she could see the love burning there, after all this time. She supposed it was easy to love a memory. They barely knew each other now. Yet, they knew each other better than anyone.

"I used to love you so much," Arthur confessed, his every word plagued by pain as his eyes became dimmed by budding tears.

"I loved you too." How true and simple it seemed. _How I love you still_. Now, that was a much more complicated conversation. Did she love him as she once had? He would never be just her brother but was the precious affection they had shared now gone forever?

02. **Hayley Westenra - Amazing Grace**. _amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me / I once was lost but now am found, was blind, but now, I see._

Eventually, the battle begun and the war was lost. Arthur regained his throne but Morgana lost a son. No one else mourned his passing but the two who had the most reason to. Arthur arranged a princely funeral but no one came.

Staring at the stone that had been erected in Mordred's memory years ago, Arthur could tell by her face that for Morgana, the loss was felt anew. He reached for her hand as the two parents stared over their child's grave. They were both old now and it had only been recently that they could reconcile the past. They could now be in each other's presence without the bitterness of the past haunting their every step. Arthur had come to terms with loving her more and learned to see what was, rather than what could be. To him, there would be a woman of her equal but he had arrived at a place where the love he felt for her was a source of strength rather than crippling him to the core. She made him better and in return, he would give her what she always loved most.

Her freedom.

THE END.


End file.
